Because of Me
by Hermione-G-Weasley
Summary: Includes the original "Because of Me" (Harry's POV at Ron's funeral), the sequel "What He Would Have Wanted" (Hermione's POV one year later), and a new story "Making It" (Harry's POV two years after the death.)
1. Because of Me

Because of Me  
  
  
I'd never been to a wizard's funeral before, and I was rather surprised to find that it was basically like a regular Muggle funeral for the most part. Not that I was paying much attention to the people who were speaking and offering kind words of hope. No, my mind was elsewhere.  
  
It was on Ron.  
  
Ron Weasley was the first real friend I had ever made. We had met over seven years ago on the train that was taking us to our first day at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he had remained my best friend through all seven years of education. He was the one person I could always count on no matter what. He never judged me or questioned me when I made up my mind to do something. No, he always just accepted me for who I was. He liked me for the person I was- not because I was "famous Harry Potter." Ron was always there when I needed him, and he was the bravest person I could ever have hoped to know.  
  
But now he was gone.  
  
Dead.  
  
Because of me.  
  
I could distantly hear someone saying how unfair it was that Ron's life was cut so short and how, at eighteen, Ron was more of a man than many people could ever dream of being. I didn't care to listen closely because I already knew all of what they were saying. I tried not to think of anything, not to see anything, and not to hear anything.   
  
But it was useless.   
  
I could hear sobbing coming somewhere from my left, and I tried my best not to notice. Yes, it was selfish, but I didn't think I could handle seeing her cry. Against my own will, I slowly turned my head in that direction and looked at the sea of red hair my gaze was met with. And there was Mrs. Weasley crying uncontrollably with her husband on one side of her and her son Charlie on the other. Both men were trying desperately to calm her, but it was to no avail. She was beyond condolence. She looked as though she was being tortured, and I supposed that by losing her youngest son she really was being tortured. Her baby boy was dead.  
  
Because of me.  
  
Once again, I tried to avert my gaze because seeing her like that was just too much for me. I couldn't, though, and I was forced to take in the rest of family as well. Mr. Weasley was holding his wife and trying his best to comfort her, but there were distinct tears glistening in the corner of his eyes. Charlie was doing his best to be brave and a type of support for his mother, not unlike the third Weasley child, Percy. The oldest Weasley child, Bill, was sitting with his arm around the youngest.   
  
Ginny.  
  
God, I couldn't take this. She looked worse perhaps than their mother did, but she wasn't making nearly as much noise. She was crying desperately, yes, but in small, staggered sobs. She had her head in her hands and was refusing to look up, despite her brother's attempt at comfort. I felt so bad for her. Ron and Ginny were the closest in age of any of the Weasley children, except, of course, the identical twins Fred and George. Ron used to tell me stories of the closeness that he and Ginny had shared when they were smaller and all of their siblings were already away at school. Eleven months was all that separated them in age, and this closeness in age gave them a sense of unity to each other. They had been the other's best friend until they had each started school and gotten their own separate groups of friends. They had grown apart a bit, but it was obvious that they still shared a very deep bond.  
  
When I looked past Ginny and saw the twins, I was finally able to look away. Never in the seven years that I had known the two of them had I ever seen either of them cry. They were always laughing and joking and causing some sort of mischief, but on that day, their laughter had been silenced, and they were each crying quietly, no sign of any type of joy on their faces.   
  
I wanted to die right then. All eight of the remaining Weasleys were grieving terribly, and it was all my fault! This was the family that had taken me in almost as one of their own and given me the love that my own family had not, and how did I repay them? I got their youngest boy killed. The Weasleys were grieving, and Ron was dead.  
  
Because of me.  
  
I shook my head at the irony of the whole situation. How ironic was it that Ron Weasley, the boy doomed to be second-best since the day he was born into a family of five older brothers and even more so on the day he decided to befriend the most famous wizard of his age, turned out to be the best of them all? Ron really was the best. He always had been. I knew it, but no one else did. How could anyone notice him with five older Weasley boys going before him and doing all the things they did? A Quidditch captain, two Head Boys, and two ingeniously funny pranksters whom everyone adored? Ron made okay marks in school, but he wasn't anywhere close to being named Head Boy or even Prefect. He had made the Quidditch team in his fifth year, but no one really considered him a hero when all the other members had been on the team for years. He was quite funny sometimes, but he didn't have the great mind, or maybe he just didn't have the motivation, to spend his time inventing hilarious pranks like the twins did. He was just Ron. The youngest Weasley boy who never once in his life had anything his brothers hadn't. I saw past all this, of course, and I knew that Ron was much more than his brothers could ever dream of being. But who was I to say this when it was me who had really sealed his fate of being second best in school?   
  
Everyone in school knew Ron, but they knew him as "Ron Weasley- Harry Potter's best friend." Yes, he was my best friend. But I always hated the fact that he got stuck with that title. I was famous, of course, for something I really couldn't even take credit for, but still, I was regaled as a hero. I couldn't help it. I couldn't change it. If it were up to me, I would have gladly given up all my fame or given it to Ron. It was what he always wanted. He always wanted to be the hero. He always wanted to do something that would set him apart from his brothers and from me. Honestly, I don't know if I would have been able to deal with being Ron. Wherever we went, people flocked after me and gawked at the stupid scar on my forehead, and often times, people didn't even seem to notice that Ron was there. And yet, he put up with it. I knew he got jealous sometimes, but Ron always just accepted it. There was that time in our fourth year when he had gotten so jealous that he hadn't been able to hold it inside any longer, but so much had happened since then that those weeks hardly even seemed significant at all. Aside from those weeks, he never mentioned it at all. He didn't complain that no one noticed him. He just dealt with it by himself. I knew it must have been hard for him, but there really wasn't anything I could do to change it.  
  
But that's where the real irony came into play.  
  
Ron's greatest desire was to be a hero of some sort and make a name for himself. A name that wasn't "the youngest Weasley boy" or "Harry Potter's best friend." He wanted to be known for something that was entirely his and his alone.  
  
And now he was.  
  
Ron Weasley was now the greatest hero in the wizarding world, and he didn't even know it. Of course, he didn't know it. He was dead.  
  
Because of me.  
  
He had saved my life and given his own. How could anything that I had ever done or anything that any of his brothers had ever done compete with that? He had sacrificed himself to save another person. To save me.   
  
Just like my mother did seventeen years before him.  
  
We had just graduated from Hogwarts only two months before, and we should have been having the time of our lives. But we weren't. There was a war going on all around us, and much to our chagrin, we were right in the center of it. Ron was, as he always was, willing to do everything he could to help me. I had been battling with Voldemort for the past three years, and he was gaining more and more power all the time. I couldn't destroy him, but somehow I managed to keep him from destroying me. Ron was always there to help. That was Ron Weasley- always there when you needed him. Two months after graduation, we found ourselves cornered by a group of Death Eaters. How many times had we been in this situation before? It was becoming too many times to count, but I was still terrified. I knew that Ron was scared, too, because despite his abnormal bravery, he still had normal emotions, and fear was one of those. It was different this time, though; the Death Eaters had stripped us of our wands and were taking us straight to Voldemort himself. It was there that Ron had done it. He had forced himself in front of me and given his life for me. Voldemort had turned his wand on Ron and yelled the words I had been having nightmares about for years: "Avada Kedavra!" There was a brilliant flash of green light, and I knew what was happening. I was too stunned to even scream, but I knew at once that Ron was dead.   
  
Because of me.  
  
However, Voldemort was dead, too. For some reason, killing Ron had completely destroyed Voldemort. Ron had destroyed Voldemort. Ron was the hero. The dead hero.  
  
And yet, I, "the boy who lived," was still living. And the real hero was dead, never knowing what he had accomplished. Never once hearing himself referred to as "Ron Weasley- the greatest hero of his time."   
  
God, I suddenly realized I wasn't breathing correctly. There was a horrible tugging feeling at the back of my throat, and my eyes were burning horribly. I was about to cry. For the first time since Ron had died, I was about to cry. Oh, who cared? I was only human. Supposed hero or not, I was entitled to cry, right?  
  
No.  
  
I very quickly became aware of the person directly on my right, and I knew that I couldn't cry. Not in front of her.  
  
Hermione Granger.  
  
She was my other best friend- the cleverest, brightest, most intelligent witch of our age. Of course, to me she was much more than this.   
  
And to Ron, she was the entire world.  
  
They had started out as bickering children, but through the years, they had grown to like and eventually to love each other. I, along with everyone else in our school, had known they were meant for each other for ages before either of them realized it. They refused to see what was right in front of their eyes for a long while, but eventually they came around. It was sometime near the middle of our sixth year when things had changed between them. Since that day, though, they were inseparable.   
  
They were in love.  
  
I admit that I was jealous at first. It was stupid and petty of me, but I didn't have any clue as to how to react to the major change taking place. Of course, I had known that they liked each other for a long time, but when it had actually happened and I was finally being faced with it, I was completely lost. We were still best friends- all three of us. But things weren't the same anymore. They started spending more time alone together, and I was left out most of the time. When the three of us actually were all together, things were different as well. We could be doing something as seemingly normal as working on our homework or playing Wizard's Chess, but these things weren't even normal anymore. Was it normal for us to be in the library and for me to suddenly find myself staring at the two of them kissing? Was it normal for us to be discussing our hatred of Snape and then suddenly have the conversation somehow switch to an exchange of "I love yous" between Ron and Hermione? Of course not. But I had grown used to it. And I even had to admit that the two of them were insanely right together- sickening sometimes, but completely right.  
  
They had been together for a year and a half. And now Ron was dead. And Hermione was alone.  
  
No one but Ron and myself knew that he had a huge surprise planned for her eighteenth birthday. It was only three weeks away when he had gotten killed, and perhaps this added more poison to the knife in a sense. He had never gotten to give her the huge surprise he had been planning for months, and she had never gotten to receive it. I could hardly believe how unfair it was for both of them. They never even got their chance.  
  
Ron was going to propose to her on the night she turned eighteen at the beginning September. He was going to ask her to be his wife. He was going to ask her to spend the rest of her life with him. The rest of her life, though, was doomed to be spent without him. Because he had died only three weeks before he was going to ask her the most important question either of them would ever be faced with.  
  
And it was all because of me.  
  
I wanted to kill myself. They were my best friends for Christ's sake! How could I let this happen to them? How could I rip him out of her life for good? How could I destroy any chance that they had of being happy? How could I take away from Hermione all hope for the perfect little redheaded family of children I knew she desperately wanted? How could I do this to them?  
  
I should be the one that was lying dead in that casket! I was so angry! Angry with Voldemort for killing the best friend I had ever known. Angry at the Fates who had given Ron what he had always wanted in the most cruel way possible. But most of all, angry with myself for being the cause of it all!  
  
It took everything that I had in me to look at Hermione then. I had to literally force my head to the right to glimpse her. I immediately wished I hadn't.  
  
She wasn't crying. No, she had cried herself dry during the days in between Ron's death and the actual funeral. I wasn't surprised that she didn't have any tears left in her. I cringed remembering her reaction to the news that Ron, the only man she had ever loved, was dead.   
  
I don't really remembering many of the details that immediately followed Ron's death, but I know that somehow I ended up at Hermione's parents' house. Word had already been sent to the Weasleys, but I knew that I needed to be the one to tell Hermione. And so I had gone to her. Her mother had answered the door and let me in. I vaguely remembering asking if Hermione was there, and I know that I ended up at her bedroom door. She had looked so happy to see me then. Her arms had flown immediately around my neck as she exclaimed how happy and relieved she was that everything had gone alright and that we were safe.  
  
We. There was no we anymore.  
  
I suppose she must have noticed my lack of response because she pulled back a bit and looked me in the eye. Or at least she tried to; I was looking somewhere far over her shoulder, almost as if into another world. She asked me what was wrong. I remained silent. Growing more panicky, she asked me where Ron was. Hearing his name brought me out of whatever daze I was in, and I looked into her eyes for the first time that night. I didn't know of any easy way to tell her, so I had just told her. Ron was dead.   
  
The main thing I remember after that was the slap that had come across my face as soon as the words were spoken. Hermione called me a bastard and demanded to know why I was joking about things this serious. I couldn't speak. I just looked at her and shook my head solemnly and silently. How I wished that it was all a joke. But it wasn't. Ron really was dead.  
  
Hermione had stared at me in disbelief, and I distinctly remembered the mix of emotions covering her face all at once. Her anger at me had suddenly changed to shock, and the shock quickly transformed itself into horror, and then all at once the horror had changed into agony. She hadn't cried immediately. No, she had stared at me, biting her lower lip and her eyes searching mine frantically as though begging me to tell her that it really was a joke. I still couldn't find my voice, so I had closed my eyes and shook my head once more. When I opened my eyes again, I saw that she looked as though she were about to faint. In fact, I was nearly positive that she really was going to hit the floor at any moment, so I had reached out to her. She had refused me, turning away from me and suddenly letting out the most horrible scream I had ever heard in my life. I couldn't bear to see her like this, but it only got worse from there. She all at once turned back to me, and I could barely comprehend that the look on her face was real. It was a horrible look- one that was a mix of anger and pain. She started cursing me again, telling me that it wasn't true, and that she hated me for lying to her like this. I didn't know what to do. I ducked, narrowly missing the Muggle lamp she had suddenly hurled at me. I heard it shatter against the wall behind me as I watched her in horror. I think the sound of the breaking glass finally snapped her out of her rage, and she let me approach her. I tried to comfort her, to put an arm around her, to let her know that I was there for her, but it didn't matter. She didn't even notice that I was there. She was all at once in a heap on the floor, her body consumed in the wracking sobs that were taking over her body as her hands pulled furiously at the mess of brown curls on her head. I vaguely noticed her parents rushing in, but I couldn't answer their questions about what was wrong with their daughter. I couldn't see Hermione like this... Not after seeing Ron as I just had...  
  
So, I had run away then.   
  
I hadn't seen Hermione much in those few days following his death, and I had absolutely refused to go to the Burrow and face Ron's family. I know it was incredibly selfish, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't look them in the eye without wanting to kill myself.  
  
But then again, I should be dead anyway. Not Ron. Me. I should be the one up there lying stone-cold in a bloody casket.  
  
Hermione looked awful. Her usually rosy cheeks were now the palest of pale, and her brown eyes were sunken in so deeply that I almost thought they had disappeared completely. She didn't notice me looking at her. I could tell she didn't notice anything at that moment. Her face was set to the most solemn of expressions and she was looking straight ahead of her at something no one else could see. Her parents sat on the other side of her, but she didn't notice their presence anymore than she noticed mine. She looked almost dead inside, and the only thing I could even think of to compare it with was the time in our second year when she had been petrified. I was sure that a tornado could have ripped through the building, and she wouldn't even haven taken notice of it.  
  
There was no life left in her at all.  
  
I heard the same speaker who had earlier been praising Ron tell his family that they were about to close the lid on his casket. He told the family that, if they wished to, they could pay their final respects to the body. I looked over at the Weasleys and saw all eight of the immediate family rise slowly. Mrs. Weasley had to be steadied greatly by Charlie, and Ginny nearly had to be picked up from her chair by Bill. I also noticed some other redheaded people rising to. I could only assume that they were the aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents I had heard so much about. The rest of us sat quietly as the Weasley family made their way back to the front where Ron's body was lying in an oak casket.   
  
I barely noticed the man in front of me until he spoke quietly. "Please, join us." I looked up and noticed Mr. Arthur Weasley standing over me, a sad expression on his face. He gave me the smallest of smiles and said, "You two were as much of family as anyone to Ron," his gaze falling on Hermione.  
  
I didn't know what to do. I was a coward, okay? Honestly, I had not even looked at Ron in his casket at all- even when all his other friends and family were paying their respects earlier. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't want to see him like that. Wasn't it enough that I had seen him dead immediately after it had happened? Wasn't it enough that I wanted nothing more than to be the one lying there instead of him?  
  
"Please?" Mr. Weasley was still looking at me expectantly. I glanced once more at Hermione, and, for the first time that day, she turned to meet my eyes. Without saying a word, she nodded very slowly and carefully at me.  
  
I knew right then that I had no choice. I looked up to accept Mr. Weasley's offer but found that he had already joined his family at the end of the line again. I took as much time as possible getting out of my seat and turning back to Hermione. Silently, I offered my hand to her, and, much to my surprise, she took it and stood. At that moment, I felt just a bit better for some reason; I didn't know why. Together, we walked toward the Weasley family and joined them in line.   
  
The aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents were all taking their seats again, and I knew that it was time for me to face everything. Still holding Hermione's hand, I approached the place where Ron lay as though I was approaching a sleeping snake. I felt Hermione's grasp tighten on my own hand, and I found comfort in this.   
  
And then we were there.  
  
I looked at him and was shocked at what I was seeing. I had expected some gruesome and horrific scene for some reason- perhaps because of the fact that I had seen him immediately following his death. But it wasn't like that at all. Ron looked rather happy and peaceful lying there as though he were in a deep sleep. It wasn't the horrible picture I had imagined, but it was even worse in a way. Seeing him look so peaceful and content made it seem as though he weren't really dead. He looked exactly like he always did when he was sleeping. We had spent seven years sleeping in beds right beside each other, and the Ron lying in front of me looked no different than the one who had lay in the bed beside mine for all those years. He even looked as though he were having a rather enjoyable dream. I found myself smiling at the memory of a very young Ron telling me that in his dreams he was always winning the World Quidditch Cup for the Chudley Cannons.   
  
Was he dreaming of Quidditch now?  
  
And then I cried. For the first time since his death, I allowed myself to cry. I didn't sob uncontrollably or cry in such a way that I needed support from another person to hold me up, but I cried. I could feel the hot liquid tears falling down my cheeks as I stared at the one person I knew I would miss more than all others.   
  
Ron Weasley- the hero.  
  
My hero.  
  
This wasn't fair at all. He shouldn't be dead. He was too young. He had never gotten the chance to play Quidditch for the Chudley Cannons. He had never gotten the chance to be a partner in Fred and George's joke shop. He had never gotten the chance to make Hermione his bride. He had never gotten the chance to send his own children to Hogwarts. He had never gotten the chance to see his name added into any of the history books that his beloved girlfriend cherished so much. He had never gotten to do any of it.  
  
Because of me.  
  
He had given all of that up to save me. Why? I knew the answer, though. He did it because he was the bravest, most loyal person anyone could ever hope to know.   
  
He did it because he was my best friend.   
  
A house-elf's words popped into my head as I stared down at him lying there looking so peaceful.  
  
"The thing Harry Potter will miss most..."  
  
If I only I had known then how true the words were....  
  
Suddenly, I became very aware that Hermione had once again lost herself. She had let go of my hand while my mind was wandering and reached down to grab Ron's. She had obviously found more tears to cry because she had slumped herself over the side of the casket and buried her head into Ron's lifeless chest, sobbing terribly. I didn't know what to do for her. I could see Mrs. Weasley out of the corner of my eye and noticed that seeing Hermione react so terribly was obviously having an effect on her as well, as she seemed to be crying even harder than before.   
  
I reached for Hermione, and she let me guide her up from Ron's body. She turned to me and began sobbing into my shoulder, and I did the only thing I could do for her. I held her and comforted her, my own tears falling silently. I led her back to our chairs, and she immediately pressed her face into her father's chest and cried loudly. I turned my attention back to the Weasleys, not being able to look at Hermione in such pain for much longer. Percy, Fred, George, and Bill had all passed Ron's body solemnly and kept moving. Charlie and Mr. Weasley were still having to literally hold Mrs. Weasley up as she stood crying over her youngest son's lifeless body. Ginny was clinging to her mother's hand like a small child, and it reminded me of the way she had looked on her first day of Hogwarts- terrified as she had clung to her mother's hand then as well.   
  
I turned away from them all, unable to bear it any longer. I saw other familiar faces sitting in the room around me; I hadn't bothered to look before. Many of our schoolmates were there, and so were many of our teachers. The headmaster of Hogwarts was there, and he met my eye. I felt better as he nodded at me reassuringly. I was shocked to see the strict and stern Professor McGonagall crying and wiping her eyes with a white handkerchief. Even Professor Snape was there; he wasn't crying, but he looked undoubtedly upset by the situation. Everyone was there. Even Draco Malfoy, who had recently forsaken his father and refused his secured position as a Death Eater after graduation, causing himself to be disowned. Seeing everyone there to mourn Ron only made me feel worse, though. They were all there to pay their respects to Ron who was now dead. Dead.   
  
Because of me.  
  
I'm not sure when the service ended, but I do know that somehow I ended up outside alone with Hermione. She had stopped crying and was now back to her near-petrified state.   
  
"Why did this happen?" she asked me suddenly, after a very long silence shared between us.  
  
I shook my head. If only I knew. I wanted nothing more than to answer her questions, but I didn't have a clue as to how I was supposed to do this. "I don't know, Hermione." I looked at her, and she looked back. I was glad to see that she had calmed a bit.  
  
"I'm sorry I was so awful to you when you told..." Her voice drifted away, but I didn't need to hear her apology.  
  
"Don't!" I told her threateningly. "Don't you dare apologize to me for anything. This is all my fault."  
  
"No," she shook her head. "No, Harry, none of this is your fault."  
  
Now that I was talking about it, I had no choice but to let it out. "Yes, it is. Ron died because I was too bloody incapable of taking care of myself! The same way my mother died! Hermione, this is all my fault!" I didn't realize that I was yelling a bit louder than I expected to.  
  
Hermione reached out and soothingly put a hand on my shoulder. I immediately felt guilty because I should have been the one comforting her- not the other way around. "Harry, please. Please, don't do this."  
  
I shrugged away from her. "It's the honest truth," I muttered. "I should be the one that's dead. I wish I was."  
  
Hermione put both of her hands on my shoulder and whipped me back around to face her. "Don't you dare say that! Ron did what he did for a reason, Harry! Why can't you realize that? He did this all because he cared about you!" Her hard gaze was making me feel incredibly guilty for being so selfish.   
  
Hermione always had a way of making me realize I was being stupid. She had a way of doing that with everyone, actually. "Please don't hate me," I said very quietly. I could feel my lip quivering, threatening to cry again.   
  
As soon as I had said this, Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she pulled me into a comforting hug. I think it was as welcome for her as it was for me. We were able to find condolence in each other, and I was happy about this. Being in her arms like this made me feel ten times better than I had just moments before.   
  
"I'm so sorry," I whispered as I felt tears fill my own eyes. I was taller than Hermione by only three inches, so it was easy for me to bury my face into her hair and cry there.   
  
Hermione didn't speak, and I could tell she just needed to be held as much as I did. We stayed like that for a long time. I have no idea how long it was before we finally pulled away from each other, and I realized that there was at least one thing I could do for her. Reaching into the pocket of my jacket, I realized that it was still there. I had been wearing the same jacket the night Ron had given it to me for safekeeping; he never was much good at keeping up with things.  
  
"Hermione," I looked down into her cinnamon colored eyes which were so heavy with sorrow at the moment, "I have something for you."  
  
She glanced back up at me questioningly, but she didn't say anything.  
  
"Ron was going to give it to you on your birthday," I tried to explain as best as I could. "He asked me to hold it..."  
  
"What is it?" she asked quietly.  
  
I took a deep breath and reached into my pocket once again. Pulling out the tiny box, I presented it to her warily. Hermione looked at it carefully before reaching for it slowly. She swallowed, her breath getting shorter, as she slowly opened the box and peered at it. She was silent and motionless for a long moment before her tears started flowing again.  
  
Inside the box was a beautiful white gold ring with a princess cut diamond in the center surrounded by five smaller diamonds. Ron knew that Hermione wanted a traditional Muggle engagement ring and wedding, and he had used his entire savings in order to buy this ring. It was perfect.  
  
I watched Hermione as she cried quietly, staring at the ring in awe. I spoke softly. "He was going to propose to you on your birthday..." I wasn't sure what else to say. "He would have wanted me to give it to you..."  
  
Still not looking up from the ring, Hermione whispered her thanks to me. "You have no idea what this means."  
  
I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her to hear that Ron would have been proposing in only a couple of weeks time if things had gone differently. I knew that she wanted nothing more in the world than to be his wife and have a huge family filled with tons of redheaded children. Ron wanted that, too. I wanted that for them. They would have been so happy together. I found that picturing their wedding was just a bit too easy, as well. Ginny would have been the Maid of Honor, and I would have been the Best Man. Everything would have been perfect. Hermione would have had her hair straightened and pulled up into an elegant bun with a gorgeous veil flowing down the back of her beautiful, yet conservative, gown. Ron would have been a mess of nerves and wouldn't have been able to make his hands work well enough to tie his necktie. His face would have been flushed and red from his nervousness. Mrs. Weasley would have been crying that her baby boy was getting married. Mr. Weasley would have spent the last few hours before the wedding, trying to give Ron advice that would accomplish nothing except embarrassing the both of them. Hermione's parents would been happy that their little girl was in love; they weren't the crying type. Ginny would be yelling orders at anyone who would listen, and she would have found her brother right before the wedding and threatened to do him bodily harm if he ever in any way hurt Hermione. The twins would undoubtedly have tried to do something that would make the wedding memorable for other reasons beside the obvious marriage. I would have sat back and watched it all in quite an amused fashion. It really would have been perfect.  
  
Hermione was still crying as she lifted the ring out of the box and slipped it onto the same finger Ron would have slipped it only a few weeks later. She gazed down at it for a long moment and then looked back up at me. "Thank you."  
  
I nodded slightly. "He really loved you. You know that, right?" I remembered the one time Ron had poured his heart out to me about his feelings for Hermione. It had been the night after he had given me the ring to hold. I couldn't comprehend it then, but I slowly understood. He had told me, in a very unlike-Ron way, that Hermione was the one thing in his life that made sense. He had said that being with her was what made getting up in the mornings so easy and going to bed at night so hard. He said that he couldn't bear to be apart from her and that the only way he would ever be truly happy was when he had her beside him all through the day and all through the night. And that was why he couldn't wait to marry her. That was why he couldn't wait to start their life together.   
  
Hermione smiled just a tiny bit when I said that. She nodded faintly. "I loved him, too. I'll always love him." She glanced back down at the ring. "I don't know what I'm going to do..."  
  
Out of pure instinct, I reached for her hand and noted how strange it felt now that it was adorned with the ring. "I'll always be here for you, Hermione. I promise."  
  
She nodded, looking down. "But we'll get through it, Harry. Ron would have wanted us to get through this."  
  
She was right. Ron would never in a million years have wanted us to mourn him forever. He would have wanted us to move on with our lives and keep living. "I'm sorry that you'll never get the life you wanted. I'm so sorry..."  
  
Hermione looked me right in the eye then. "Harry, it's not your fault. Ron did what he did because he had to. He did it because you're his best friend. He died because he was being noble. Harry, he didn't die because of you."  
  
Because of me...  
  
Maybe she was right. If she was, I hoped that in time I would come to realize it and forgive myself. It would take time, but I was prepared to try. I was now determined to keep living and make Ron proud. But God, I was going to miss him.   
  
But I felt a bit better knowing that Ron Weasley was no longer the man beside the hero.  
  
He was the hero. 


	2. What He Would Have Wanted

A/N: I want to thank everyone who left me feedback to the story that precedes this one: "Because of Me." This is its sequel, and I hope it lives up to what everyone who wanted a sequel expected. This takes place on the one year anniversary of Ron's death and is told from Hermione's point of view. Please read and reply!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them, so please do not sue me. You wouldn't get anything anyway because I haven't got anything.  
  
*****************************************  
  
The sun was shining, and I noticed that the hot August sun had left me sweating. Not that I minded; I always preferred warm to cold, so I was pleased to soak up the last of the summer. Soon enough it would be fall, and after that winter. It was really a gorgeous day. In fact, some people might even go as far as calling it the perfect day.  
  
Not me, though.  
  
This day was the hardest of them all. How could it have been a year? In some ways, it felt as though it were just yesterday that I had seen him, but sometimes it seemed like it had been a hundred years. The past year had been the worst of my life, and sometimes I wasn't sure how I managed to make it through the day. There were so many mornings that I just wanted to lay in my bed and never get up. But I always did.  
  
It's what he would have wanted.  
  
It seemed as though everything I did anymore was for him. What he would have wanted me to do. And what would have made him happy.  
  
Ron.  
  
Oh, God, I missed him more with every passing day. It still seemed impossible to me that only a year ago we were so extremely happy.  
  
A year ago today.  
  
Damn. This wasn't fair. The memories shouldn't haunt me with each waking second, and yet I'm glad that they do. Memories are all that I have left of him- the only man I've ever loved in my entire life.  
  
I remember the last time I saw him as thought it were only yesterday. The very last memories I have of him. The very last time I was truly happy.  
  
*************************Flashback*****************************  
  
An odd feeling roused me from my sleep- not a bad feeling, just one of unfamiliarity. I felt very content with my rest, and I wasn't exactly anxious to wake up, but I opened my eyes anyway.  
  
There he was.  
  
Ron was lying right beside me in my bed, twirling one of my curls between his long fingers and grinning brilliantly at me.  
  
I was shocked at first because I definitely did not go to sleep like this, so it was quite a shock to wake up like this. "What are you doing here?" I asked, smiling back at him. I was thrilled to see him. This was surely the only way to wake up- with one of his arms wrapped tightly around my waist and his blue eyes staring into my own. Yes, this was how I wanted to wake every morning for the rest of my life.  
  
"Well," he said, still grinning wickedly, "I was lying in bed thinking, `Hmm... I'd sure like to snog Hermione right about now.' So, I apparated over, and here I am!"  
  
My eyes caught sight of the open window to my right. "Well, why didn't you just apparate into my room instead of coming through the window?"  
  
He, still smiling at me, pulled me closer to him and said. "Oh, I just figured it'd be better like this. You know in all those Muggle romance novels you have a dashing, heroic, stunning man always sneaks through a window and gets to ravish the fair young maiden."  
  
I blushed furiously. He only shook his head, smirking.  
  
"And don't try to pretend you don't have them," he continued, his eyes flashing toward the bookshelf against my wall. "I've snuck peaks at them while you've been out of the room before. Pure and utter smut, that stuff. I must say, the first time I ever looked in one, I was rather surprised at you, Hermione."  
  
I had to laugh at that. "I do not read them for that reason!"  
  
He just continued to smirk. "Sure..." I chose to ignore him. He continued, "So? Do I get that kiss or not?"  
  
"Well," I said, pretending to ponder it. "I thought you were going to ravish a fair young maiden."  
  
"Oh yeah! Got any idea where I might find one?" he joked.  
  
I swiftly smacked him on the arm and rolled away from him, muttering, "See if you get snogged now."  
  
He laughed and scooted closer to me. "Only kidding!" He kissed me on the cheek from behind and said, "You are the most," he kissed me again, "beautiful," another kiss, "girl," at this, I rolled onto my back and looked at him threateningly to which he rolled his eyes and corrected himself, "woman- excuse me," yet another kiss, "in the entire world."  
  
I smiled up at him lovingly. How did he do it? How did he make me melt with every word he spoke? How did he make my heart explode with happiness every time he came anywhere near me?  
  
I was so in love with him.  
  
"You're getting closer to the snog," I said quietly.  
  
Now that I was lying on my back and Ron was on his side, it was easy for me to tilt my head and capture his lips with my own. As soon as our lips met, it was as though a burst of electricity shot through my body. It wasn't a wild and passionate kiss at all; it was slow and sensual. But it set me on fire. We pulled away soon afterward, and I said, "Ron, my parents are right down the hall."  
  
He shrugged. "I already locked the door to your room. I don't reckon I'd fancy seeing your dad if he ever caught me lying in your bed like this..."  
  
I laughed, thinking of what my dad would do to Ron if he ever witnessed a scene like this. Then I suddenly realized that it was not a funny idea at all. "Good thinking!" I said quickly.  
  
He shuddered over-dramatically. "I don't even want to think about it!"  
  
I laughed and kissed him once more. I leaned back slightly and said, "So, why did you really come over here?"  
  
He wrapped his outer arm over me, and I turned to look at him directly face to face. "I really did just want to see you," he said honestly. "I miss seeing you every morning."  
  
For the past seven years, save summer holidays, Ron and I had seen each other bright and early every morning, having lived in the same house at our school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. School had been over for two months, and we hadn't spent as much time together as either of us would have liked. He was always busy trying to help Harry, and I had moved back home to my parents' house. I missed him, too. Desperately.  
  
"I love you." I knew that I would never get tired of telling him this because they were the truest words I had ever spoken, and I told him every chance I got.  
  
I also knew that I would never get tired of hearing those words the moment he returned them to me. "I love you, too."  
  
We kissed then, and it was as though there was no war outside, no parents down the hall, nothing else on the entire earth except for the two of us. It was always like that when we kissed. Everything else in the world ceased to exist.  
  
I could feel his tongue prodding at my lips, and I was more than eager to allow him the entrance which he was begging for. I parted my lips just enough to let his tongue slip through and brush over my own. Ron, still kissing me deeply, rolled a bit closer to me and turned so that I was halfway on my back again. I frowned a bit when his lips left mine, but when they moved to the hollow of my neck, I found myself wondering what the frown was on my face for and changed it to a rather contented smile.  
  
God, this was wonderful! I couldn't believe the things he could make me feel with just a simple kiss or, even better, a heated touch.  
  
His hands moved from my waist and rose higher up my back to tangle in the mess of brown curls on my head as his lips continued to assault my neck. It was funny, really, that things could get so heated so quickly between us. I groped for the back of his neck and pulled him closer to me as I rolled completely onto my back. He covered my body with his own and started to kiss my lips again. I heard him moan somewhere from the back of his throat when I parted his lips with my own and slipped my tongue into his mouth, exploring every crevice of it.  
  
He kissed me back desperately. The hands that were once entangled in my hair were now moving back around to my face as he cupped my chin in his hands and kissed me with all the passion he knew. His hands left my face and traveled down the sides of my waist to grip my hips, and I jumped slightly at their relocation. The movement of me underneath him made him give some sort of a sound that can only be described as a low growl, as he pulled his lips away from mine and started working once again on my neck which was completely exposed to him as I was only wearing the over-sized t-shirt I had worn to bed the night before. I could tell that the shirt was riding high up my thighs, leaving quite a bit of mentionable skin bare, and I was assured of my assumptions when Ron's hands once again took to moving. I felt his smooth hands on the tops of my legs all at once, and his fingertips started running lines up and down and up and down my outer thighs. I couldn't help but give a low  
needing moan at the feelings of his hands on my bare skin.  
  
I leaned up and kissed him, as my own hands traveled down his muscled back and lower to rest on his backside. Unconsciously, I pulled him toward me, immediately taking notice of the effect our little episode was having on him the second our lower bodies came into contact with each other. He was excited, and the evidence was more than a bit noticeable.  
  
All at once, he pulled away from me and shook his head. "Hermione, we need to stop," he whispered breathlessly.  
  
I flung my head back onto the pillow and groaned loudly. I was so frustrated! I was frustrated at myself for getting so into it. I was frustrated with Ron for being so damn sensible. And most of all, I was sexually frustrated.  
  
We always ended up like this- both of us in such an excited state that it made stopping damn near impossible. And yet we always stopped. I wanted to save my virginity until my wedding night, and Ron knew this. He never pressured me to go any further than I wanted to, and I loved for him this. I also hated him for this. The truth was that I did want to make love with him; I wanted that desperately. But I had always planned on waiting.  
  
But that was before.  
  
That was before I knew how wonderful it felt to have Ron's hands on my bare skin. That was before I knew how excited I could get when he kissed me passionately. That was before I knew the aching need that I would inevitably get every single time we got just a little too into the kissing. That was before I was in love.  
  
Now things were different. I was old enough to understand that I was actually very much in love with Ron, and I knew that he was the only man I would ever want to marry. If I were going to marry him eventually, what would the harm be in making love with him just a bit early?  
  
"Ron, I don't want to stop." I looked at him very seriously, and I saw him swallow, his breath still not completely recovered.  
  
"What are you saying?" His blue eyes looked into my own curiously.  
  
I closed my eyes just a bit before I opened them and leaned up to whisper into his ear. "I want you to make love to me."  
  
Ron looked back at me, his eyes seeming to cloud with an unexplainable expression. "Are you sure?" His voice was just as breathless as it had been moments before when he'd insisted that we stop.  
  
I didn't speak. I just nodded and leaned up to kiss him lightly before lowering myself back to the pillow and looking up at him expectantly. Yes, I was sure.  
  
I can't really even describe the way Ron looked down at me with his eyes so full of adoration and love. He wasn't smiling, but the happiness I was feeling was reflected in his eyes.  
  
"I love you."  
  
What I had ever done to deserve this, I had no idea. I had never done anything worth the happiness that I felt every time Ron was anywhere near me.  
  
He kissed me again, and desire stirred deep within me. Yes, I wanted this very much. I wanted this so bad, I was sure I was going to die if it didn't happen soon.  
  
But Ron pulled away once again and rolled off of me, sitting up in the bed. I could have screamed, but instead, I rolled my eyes and sat up as well, turning to look at him.  
  
"Ron, what's wrong?"  
  
He shook his head and swallowed as he turned to me. "We shouldn't be doing this."  
  
What was his problem? "Why not?" I asked, my only child syndrome coming out with the whining tone of my voice. "Don't you want to?"  
  
Ron laughed. He actually snorted with laughter at my question. "Don't I want to? Hermione, are you serious?"  
  
I looked at him, the confusion I was feeling surely showing on my face.  
  
He took my hand and continued. "Of course, I want to. It's all I think about every second of every day." He grinned a little. "Trust me, if you could see my dreams and read my thoughts, you would know how much I want to do this."  
  
I laughed knowingly. Being a seventeen year old virgin, I knew only too well what thoughts and dreams could do to a person. I had had enough of my own to understand perfectly well what he was talking about.  
  
"Then let's do it," I said urgently. "I promise I'm ready. I want to."  
  
Ron seemed to be having some sort of inner battle. I was sure it was the eighty percent of his brain that was overwrought with sexuality that was battling to overcome the twenty percent of his brain which consisted of other thoughts. Surprisingly enough, it seemed as though the underdog was winning.  
  
"But this is wrong."  
  
Wrong? How could he say that this was wrong? "Ron, I don't understand. We love each other. How is that wrong?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, that's not wrong at all. In fact, it's what makes everything else so wrong."  
  
For the millionth time in his life, Ron had succeeded in confusing me with his words. "What the hell are you talking about?" I said it in a way that was a bit snappier than I would have liked, but he wasn't making any sense.  
  
Ron sighed, obviously upset with my lack of understanding. "Hermione, look. I want to make love to you more than I've ever wanted anything in the world. Trust me on that. But this is wrong."  
  
"But I already told you that I want to. I'm ready. I really am," my eyes pleaded with him.  
  
He smiled at me and kissed my forehead. "Well, believe me, I'm ready, too. If you don't want to wait any longer, it's more than fine with me."  
  
Okay, did he realize he wasn't making any sense? "Then what is the problem?"  
  
"Hermione, I love you so much, and I want the first time we make love to be special. I want it to be as perfect as you are."  
  
I smiled shyly, his words meaning more to me than he could possibly have known.  
  
"And this," he continued, "is not the way it's supposed to be. It shouldn't be some spur of the moment thing with your parents two doors down. It should be romantic and special and memorable." He gave me a small smile and brought our entwined hands to his lips and kissed mine lightly.  
  
I realized then that tears were springing to my eyes as I removed my hand from his and threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. When I pulled back, I wiped the tears from my eyes and beamed at him. "Thank you."  
  
"For what?" He reached for my hand again.  
  
"For loving me so much," I said. "And for caring so much. Thank you."  
  
Ron squeezed my hand. "I have to go meet Harry soon, but this weekend, I'll make sure that it's just the two of us. I'll find somewhere just for us, and then we can continue this. The way it's supposed to be."  
  
I knew right then that the wait until the weekend was surely going to kill me. But I also knew that the wait would be more than worth it. I nodded, smiling, and asked, "What are you and Harry doing today?"  
  
He looked just a bit uncomfortable, and I could tell that he was about to tell me they were doing something dangerous. Ron knew that I was always scared whenever he and Harry took off on one of their new tasks. They were both eager to be the brave hero- the one that Harry was known as and the one that Ron wanted to be known as; they were brave sometimes to the point of stupidity, and I knew this better than anyone on the earth, having witnessed so many of their feats of heroism first-hand.  
  
"Well, the ministry wants us to try and trap a group of Death Eaters. If all goes well, we might even get Lucius Malfoy today." He looked at me hopefully, as though adding that last bit of information might make me take the news better.  
  
I sighed. Why couldn't we just be normal? Why did it seem as though the whole damn war revolved around us? It wasn't Harry's fault that the whole Dark Side wanted nothing more than his death, it wasn't Ron's fault that he had this great sense of loyalty toward Harry that he couldn't deny, and it wasn't my fault that I was a Muggle-born witch with more book sense than their whole side put together, "Harry Potter's Mudblood know-it-all best friend," nonetheless. But yet these three things that we couldn't help could very possibly prove fatal for us all. It wasn't fair!  
  
"Ron, promise me you'll be careful," I said desperately.  
  
He grinned. "Trust me, I don't plan on getting myself killed today- not with the weekend I have planned for us only a few days away. I wouldn't miss that for the world." He was trying to cheer me up, but it wasn't working.  
  
I didn't want him to go. I didn't want Harry to go either. I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted things to go back to being as simple as they had been when we were eleven year olds at our first flying lesson. Back then we didn't have to worry about anything other than Draco Malfoy. I had despised Ron and Harry then, and the feeling was mutual from the both of them. Life had been so simple then. Our feelings toward each other had changed soon afterward, and pretty soon after that, our lives were anything but simple.  
  
"Don't even joke about that," I warned him, not wanting to acknowledge that he had referred to himself being killed.  
  
His joking face turned serious and he nodded. "I promise I'll be careful," he said quietly. "You know I always am."  
  
That was lie. Ron wasn't always careful. Harry wasn't always careful. Even I wasn't always careful. We had all done some pretty stupid things in the name of bravery in the past, and Ron was perhaps the worst of us all. He was always eager to prove himself, and sometimes he acted in very careless ways. Careful was not what he was; lucky was a much better word choice. And I knew that eventually everyone's luck wore out, but I refused to believe that Ron's would run out anytime soon. I was a stupid, naïve little girl in many ways, and I refused to believe that anything bad could actually happen to any of us. Harry was going to play Quidditch for a living, and Ron and I were going to be married and have a houseful of our own Weasley children. Our lives were going to be perfect.  
  
I didn't relay any of these thoughts to Ron, though. I just nodded. "Okay, good."  
  
Ron got off the bed and stood then, and he held out his hands to help me to my feet. Not close to the floor, I stood on the bed, towering over him. He grinned up at me.  
  
"This is a change."  
  
Ron was very tall, and he towered me by eight inches normally. He wasn't used to looking up at me.  
  
I smiled back down at him and nodded. "See why my neck always hurts?"  
  
He laughed and let go of my hands, grabbing me from behind the knees and lifting me off the bed in a swift movement. He held me like a baby, one arm under my bent knees and the other behind my back, and he spun me around once. I squealed with laughter, momentarily forgetting that my parents were indeed sleeping only a few feet away.  
  
He silenced me with a kiss, and I found that my life was perfect. Yes, it was perfect. When he finally sat me down, he reached for the jacket he had removed after climbing through my window.  
  
"I wish I could stay, but I told Harry I'd meet him for breakfast. You can come if you want."  
  
I did want to, but I had promised my mum that I would go with her to London that morning. I told Ron this and told him to give my love to Harry.  
  
"I will. And I'll come see you tomorrow." He kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand. "And thanks for the snog by the way," he said grinning. "Made my trip over worthwhile."  
  
I just beamed at him and leaned up to kiss his lips briefly. "Be careful," I warned once more.  
  
Ron nodded and pulled me toward him in a hug that lasted a bit longer than usual. He just stood with his arms around me, and I wondered if he was enjoying the feeling as much as I was. Finally, he leaned down and kissed the top of my head, smoothing my hair down a bit with his hands. When he pulled back, he said, "I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."  
  
"I love you, too." I kissed him once more, and then he disappeared, apparating to some small café to meet Harry for breakfast.  
  
Yes, my life was perfect.  
  
*************************End Flashback******************************  
  
But perfection never lasts very long.  
  
Later that night, Harry had come to me and given me the worst news I would ever hear.  
  
Ron was dead.  
  
God, I was so mad! I was mad at everything! I was mad for the obvious selfish reasons such as the fact that Ron and I would never get to be married and live happily ever after and the fact that Ron was the only thing I had in my life that was completely right. And I was mad because fate had taken him away at such a young age. And I was mad at Harry for being the one there with him as he died and not me. And I was mad at Ron for leaving me! After all the promises he had made me, all the dreams he had shared with me, all the plans we had made together... He had left me. He was gone.  
  
And I was alone.  
  
I'm sure that Harry, my parents, and the rest of the world must have thought I had lost my mind after that. I had never known that I could cry that many tears, nor had I known that I could feel so dead when my heart was beating so normally. I didn't want to be alive anymore.  
  
I wanted to die physically right along with Ron; I was already emotionally dead. I even tried to kill myself the day after I found out Ron had left me forever. My mum had just gotten a whole new bottle of her prescription sleeping pills, and they sat in her bathroom medicine cabinet just beckoning to me. I had gone to my parents' bathroom early in the morning and grabbed the bottle. Without thinking twice, I took what must have been fifteen pills all at once, swallowing one after another with no stop. And then I had slept.  
  
The next thing I remember is waking up in a Muggle hospital with my parents' beside me, each wearing terrified expressions. My mum had found me lying there soon enough after I had passed out, and she and my dad had gotten me to the hospital in time for me to have my stomach pumped and my life saved. They were so upset that I had tried to do it, but they both kept my secret- never telling anyone. I didn't tell anyone, either- not even Harry. Two days later, we buried Ron, and the nightmare started.  
  
The nightmare that has been the last year.  
  
How the hell was I supposed to move on after Ron's death? For a year and a half, I had loved him as a boyfriend, and for five and a half years before that, I had loved him as a best friend. How was I expected to just forget that he had ever existed and "get on with my life?"  
  
I couldn't. No, it was impossible.  
  
I tried, of course, to do things as normally as possible, but no matter how hard I tried nothing ever seemed normal. That's because things weren't normal. My life was no longer perfect, and I knew it.  
  
So many things had happened in the past year- things Ron would never know about. He'd never know that Harry ditched the Quidditch dream to become a full time auror, capturing the Death Eaters after their Lord's demise. He'd never know that Harry finally succeeded in capturing Lucius Malfoy who was now spending a lifetime in Azkaban. He wouldn't know that Fred and George made a small fortune selling their finest invention to date- a piece of chocolate that would turn the eater into a body of jello-like flexibility. He wouldn'tt know that his brother Bill and his wife Amy were expecting their first child in late winter. He wouldn't know that his dad got promoted to the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. He'd never know that I spent the last year working at Hogwarts.  
  
Madame Pince retired the summer after we graduated, and Professor Dumbledore asked me if I wanted the position. I said yes, mainly because I needed something to get my mind off of Ron and also because I loved that library so much. Harry teased me a bit, and I was sure that if Ron had been around, I still wouldn't have lived it down. They would think it quite funny that after practically living in that library for seven years, I was making a career out of running it. As part of the staff, I was expected to call the other staff members by their first names, but I found it absolutely impossible to do this. It was impossible to call Snape by Severus or McGonagall by Minerva, so I still called them Professor, and, oddly enough, they still referred to me as Miss Granger. The year was uneventful for the most part. The strangest thing was the way Ginny and I were treated. Of course, everyone talked nonstop about the past summer, but they always cut their conversations abruptly short  
whenever Ginny or I entered the room. They all acted as though we were fragile beings that were sure to break at the slightest mention of Ron or anything to do with him. I didn't mind talking about it, though; in fact, it helped me. It helped Ginny, too. We spent many nights in my room just talking about the things that had happened and trying to make sense of everything. It had made the two of us very close.  
  
But Ron wouldn't know this. He wouldn't know that Ginny had graduated and was now pursuing a career as a journalist, although she promised me not to take any sort of lessons from Rita Skeeter. She was dating Colin Creevey, and they were getting pretty serious. Colin gave me a photo album filled with pictures that he had snapped of Ron, Harry, and I. It was beautiful.  
  
But still, life wasn't normal. Things would never be normal again, and I knew this. And then as I stood looking down at Ron's grave on the one-year anniversary of his death, I cried.  
  
My mind wandered back to the week after Ron's death. I had been in my room asleep because that's all I ever did for a long while- sleep. My mum knocked gently on my door and handed me a letter that had arrived by owl for me. I took it from her and shut the door to my room, sitting on my bed and preparing to open the letter. As soon as I opened it, it was as though I were seeing a ghost.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
If you get this letter then obviously I'm dead. I'm only writing this on the off-chance that something goes wrong. I don't plan on you ever receiving this letter, but I'm writing it anyway just in case. As I said before, if you're reading this then I am obviously not there. I hope that you're doing well. If I am dead, then I want you to promise me that you're not mourning too much. I don't want you to cry for me any longer than you have to. Hermione, you have to be strong.  
  
I love you so much. I want you to know that there is nothing in this world that could ever change that- not even death. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, both on the inside and the outside. I can't believe that you're mine. It still shocks me that you picked me to love. I can't believe that I've been lucky enough to have you in my life. Hermione, you are my best friend, and you have been for years. Now that our relationship is more than just friendly, I regard you as a sort of angel.  
  
An angel that was put on this earth to save me from myself.  
  
Honestly, I don't know what kind of person I would be if you weren't in my life. You know that things haven't always been easy for me, and I've sometimes let the bitterness I hold about my brothers and Harry and my family's financial situation and all those other things get the better of me. I know that I haven't always been exactly nice to you. I know that for years I treated you horribly, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I ever made you cry when we were children, Hermione. I'm sorry for any pain that I ever caused you. You've been the one thing in my life that keeps me sane. You really, truly are an angel.  
  
I'm writing this the night before graduation, and I don't know what's going to happen when we leave this school. Things could all be over soon, and life could be bliss. Or something else could happen. I have no way of knowing anything. The only thing I know for sure is that no matter what happens, you are and always will be the only woman I've ever loved. I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, but it must have been something spectacular because that's the only word I can think of to describe you. The first time I kissed you I knew that you were the only person I ever wanted to kiss for the rest of my life.  
  
I love you.  
  
God, I can't even tell you how much I love you. There isn't enough parchment in the world to tell you that. But just know that I do, and I always will. You will always be my angel, Hermione.  
  
If I do die, please don't waste your life mourning for me. Remember me, but don't dwell on those memories to the point where you don't do all the things you've always dreamed of. You are the most brilliant person I know, and you should never ever waste your talent. Keep living for me, Hermione.  
  
And know that I will always be with you.  
  
Always.  
  
Love,  
  
Ron  
  
That letter was the only thing that kept me going through the past year. It made me realize that there was nothing in the world that was going to bring Ron back and that I had to move on. I had to for his sake. Because it was what he would have wanted.  
  
I would do anything in the world if I thought it would make him happy.  
  
The year had been rough, yes, but everyone did their best to help me. I clung to Harry the most because he could relate the closest to what I was going through. For seven years no one had seen any of us without the other two. Harry, Ron, and I were a trio- best friends for life. It was cliché I suppose, but it was the truth. And suddenly with the wave of a wand, our trio had been viciously cut down to two. Harry and I were all that was left, and we turned to each other for help on getting through it. If it hadn't been for Harry, I'm not sure I could have made it through the year, but he was always there when I needed him. And I helped him as well. He blamed himself completely for Ron's death, and I had finally been able to convince him that it wasn't his fault and that Ron had given his own life because he couldn't allow his best friend to die. Harry was getting through it.  
  
Everyone else tried to help me as well. All of our old schoolmates and teachers gave me their condolences and best wishes. The most surprising visit had been from Draco Malfoy- Harry's, Ron's and my greatest enemy since the very first day of our first year. He had made seven years hell for the three of us, but soon after graduation, he had forsaken his father and turned away from the Dark Side, denying his place as a Death Eater. Ron hadn't believed it at first; he had said that Malfoy was simply trying to trick our side and was going to turn on us all at any minute. But Malfoy (I still couldn't make myself call him Draco) had risked his own life to save Harry and Ron from his father one time, and Ron's feelings had changed. He was by no means best friends with Malfoy, and neither were Harry or I, but we had all learned to treat each other civilly. Malfoy had shown up at my door two weeks after Ron's funeral looking sincerely sorry. He had apologized for everything that had  
happened between the four of us in the past and told me that if I ever needed anyone and had no one else to go to, his door was always open to me. He had also said some very kind words about Ron. He told me that he had always secretly admired Ron (although, he still called him Weasley- I guess some things will never change) for being able to put up with all "the shit that he did while Potter got all the credit." It was an awkward visit, and I doubted that I would ever be taking Malfoy up on his open-door offer, but it was nice of him to visit nonetheless.  
  
But even with everyone's support things were still hard. It was still hard for me to get up every morning knowing that I wouldn't be seeing Ron that day or any day after that. It was still hard for me to look at Ginny as she sat in my room late at night and not cry because of the red hair and freckles that reminded me so much of her brother. It was still hard for me to see an article in the newspaper about the Chudley Cannons without thinking of Ron. It was still hard for me to see Harry and not see Ron.  
  
It was just hard.  
  
I was never going to get to know the feeling of being Mrs. Hermione Weasley. I was never going to send any of my own little Weasleys off to Hogwarts. I was never going to hear him tell me he loved me again. I was never going to see his brilliant blue eyes sparkle as he grinned at me. I was never going to feel his hand holding mine again. I was never going to experience the feeling of his soft lips pressed tightly against mine ever again. And I was never, ever going to know how it would feel to look into his eyes as he whispered words of love in my ear while making sweet, slow, passionate love to me. And I didn't want to experience that with anyone else, and I wasn't sure that I ever would.  
  
Maybe in time things would change and I would be able to move on and like someone else. Maybe I could even possibly fall in love again. But I knew it wouldn't be anytime soon. No, for the time being, my heart belonged to Ron, and I knew that at least a part of it always would. He was my first love.  
  
And, so far, my only love.  
  
And I did love him. And I always would. But I was trying my best to move on and cope. After all, it's what he wanted.  
  
As I stood in front of his grave, the sun slowly beginning to set behind me, I glanced down at my left hand and saw the ring that would have been an engagement ring if Ron had lived only a few short weeks longer. It sparkled as the last of the day's sun disappeared behind the trees. In the back of my mind, I pictured where I would be on this day if things hadn't gone the way they had the year before. We would probably already be married, and I knew we would be happy. Blissfully happy. We might have been planning our family, or we might have possibly already had one child. At that very moment, he might have been returning from work, and I might have been waiting for him with open arms and a sweet kiss. Who knows where we would be? But we would undoubtedly be together. And we would be happy.  
  
Was Ron happy wherever he was then? I could only pray that he was. Was he watching me? Did he know how much I missed him? Did he know that I was trying to move on and be strong?  
  
I hoped so.  
  
Because it's what he would have wanted. And I wanted to make him happy.  
  
I reached down and placed the single red rose I had brought to the cemetery with me on Ron's grave. I kissed it before lying it on the ground in front of his headstone.  
  
"Good-bye, my love," I whispered.  
  
And then I walked away, ready to face another year without him. 


	3. Making It

A/N: I've decided to move all of these into one story. This is the latest one I've written, so I hope that you all enjoy it. It would probably be best if you read the other two chapters/stories before this one. This one is written two years after Ron's death, and it's from Harry's POV once again. Please review it!  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or places. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Colin, the rest of the Weasleys, Parvati, Neville, Snape, Trelawney, Dumbledore, Madame Pince, Flitwick, Voldemort, Lily Potter, and anyone else mentioned in this story all belong to J.K. Rowling sadly...  
  
*******************************************  
  
  
It's raining right now. I don't know if you can tell that or not since I don't know anything at all about the after-life or whatever you want to call it. But anyway, it's raining- now you know.  
  
Wow, this is a bit harder than I expected. It's weird, you know, because I don't even know for sure that you can hear me. Honestly, I feel sort of dumb. But Hermione told me that she does this a lot, and we both know that if Hermione does it then it can't actually be dumb, now can it?  
  
Okay, I'm rambling now. If you were here, you'd say, "Shut up, Harry! And get to the bloody point!"  
  
So, okay. I'll try and get on with the point. The only trouble is that I'm not entirely sure what the point is...  
  
I just know that I need to talk to you, Ron. I need to talk to you so badly. This is the closest I'll ever get, though, so I suppose it will have to do. I wish you could talk back with me; you have no idea what I'd give if I could just have one more conversation with you. There're so many things that I needed to say that I never did, and now I'll never get the chance to. At least not face to face anyway.  
  
So, I'll do it like this.  
  
You know what? Two years ago, I wouldn't have had the balls to tell you any of this. But two years ago I was a child. So much has changed since then. God, I don't even know where to start. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've grown up in the two years since you... since you died.  
  
Yes, I'm still as short as I ever was. Go ahead and laugh it up. You could still double me as a bludger like you always joked about. But that's not what I'm talking about.  
  
I've matured. Sometimes I feel like such an old man, but then I have to tell myself that I'm only twenty years old. Only I don't think twenty is supposed to feel this ancient.   
  
Do you remember back when we first started Divination? Do you remember how we used to sit in the Common Room for hours on end making up all these tragic predictions for ourselves? Wasn't it fun? I mean, sure, we had a lot to be afraid of back then- Voldemort, Dementors, Death Eaters, Snape... Not to mention all the other things that were equally as terrifying- Trelawney's constant death omens, McGonagall's wrath, the constant threat of being turned into a canary when all we wanted was a bit of a sweet, Mrs. Norris, Hermione's unquestionable scolding when she'd notice we weren't doing our homework properly... Yes, we had a lot to deal with. But it was fun, wasn't it? I mean, real, honest to God fun.   
  
But things just aren't fun anymore.  
  
You'd think that with the fall of the Dark Side, life would be pure grandness, now wouldn't you? And I suppose that for many people it is. But to me, it's just waking up each day and doing the same thing that I did the day before. The thrill of catching the Death Eaters passed a long time ago, and now when I go to work, I just always feel... I don't know... sad.  
  
I feel sad because I know that you would love my job. I remember the first time Mad-Eye Moody (well, the fake one, anyway) told me I should be an Auror. It had seemed so fascinating at the time, and I started dreaming about what it would be like to actually go out there and do it. That same year, you mentioned wanting to be an Auror, too, for the first time. We were practicing the Stunning Charm- well, I was practicing, and you were being my target. You said that one day all of us- you, me, and Hermione- would all be Aurors. And after that, I started dreaming about what it would be like to go to work every day with my best friends- how much fun it would be. It was like right then, in fourth year, I just knew that the three of us would be together forever.  
  
Best friends for life, as Hermione once said...  
  
Well, I guess she was right in a way. It's just that life wasn't supposed to end at the age of eighteen. I swear to God, Ron, it was never supposed to be like this. And I swear that I never meant for it to happen. None of us were supposed to die, and if one of us was destined to, I never considered the fact that it wouldn't be me. I mean, you had so much more to live for than I did.   
  
Namely Hermione.  
  
You two had each other, and I had no one like that. If anything at all were fair, the two of you would still have each other. I'll never understand why Fate works the way it does... I don't know why it had rip you away from Hermione like that; what did she ever do to deserve that?  
  
She's getting on alright, I suppose. I mean, obviously she has days that are better than others, but that's to be expected, right? When the Ministry offered me the Auror job, they offered one to Hermione as well, but she turned it down. I think she mainly did it because she knew that being an Auror was your dream, and it would have just been too painful. So, yes, I'm sure you know that she went back to Hogwarts instead. I gave her a bit of hell for that, of course. But it was strange, and I wished you were there. Teasing Hermione just isn't an enjoyable of a pastime without you there to lead the joking. The library of all places! Didn't she get enough of that place in the seven years she called it her home? But I guess she really was perfect for the job because, come on, who knows the Hogwarts library better than Hermione Granger? I bet some of the students were peeved, though, because I'm quite sure that she knew all of the secret little corners that so many students use for snogging much better than Madame Pince ever did. So, I'm sure that loads of romancing was cut short...  
  
I guess you already found out that next year she's going to teach instead of being the librarian. Yes, dear old Professor Flitwick has finally decided to call it quits and retire, leaving one Miss Hermione Granger as the new Charms mistress. She's excited, of course; she told me that she already has the first and second years' lessons made for the entire course and that's she's working on getting the third and fourth years' finished as well. I'm glad she's got something to keep her occupied.  
  
Truth be told, I've been a bit worried about her lately. If it's possible, it seems as though this year has been even harder on her than the last. I know that maybe I shouldn't be telling you all of this because it probably won't do anything but upset you, but I really need to talk to someone about it. Seeing Hermione so distraught has been taking a toll on me as well. I really don't think you could possibly imagine what it's like seeing her when she's having one of her bad days. One day, Dumbledore owled me and asked me to come to the school because Hermione had been claiming that she was sick for days and hadn't left her room. I went straight away, and it was just awful, Ron. She was lying on her bed doing nothing except staring at the wall, and when I entered her room, all she did was tell me that she knew what it was like to be in Azkaban. Of course, I was confused, but she told me that she knew exactly what it felt like to be guarded by the Dementors because every single happy feeling in her body had been removed. And then she gave me what had to be the most heart-wrenching story of my life. And what could I do?   
  
I don't even know how to deal with her sometimes. She's so different now, and I know it's killing her to realize that she's not keeping her promise to you by trying to move on with her life. But she can't, Ron; she really can't.  
  
I wish I could see her more than I get to, but it's hard with me always traveling and her living at Hogwarts. We still manage to get together as often as possible, though, and those are the only moments I look forward to anymore. When I'm with Hermione- as long as she's not hysterical- I can be completely open with my thoughts and feelings. For a long while, I wouldn't open up to her because I felt so guilty about everything that had happened. She helped me, though, to realize that bottling everything up would only hurt me in the end. So, when we get together, we talk. About anything and everything. She's told me things that I know she would never have mentioned if everything hadn't happened as it had. And I've told her things that I've never breathed to another human being.  
  
But it's weird.  
  
Because even though we trust each other completely, it's obvious that we're both secretly wishing that you were the one we were confiding to. I know that everything she's sharing with me would have been shared with you instead if you were still here. And I know that if you were here, I'd be telling you all of my secrets instead of Hermione. So, it's almost as if we're substitute Rons for each other... If that makes sense.  
  
Okay, look.  
  
Ron, you were the first real friend I ever had. Unless, of course, you count the spiders that used to share my bed when the Dursleys forced me to live in that tiny broom cupboard. But I'm sure that you would never count spiders as friends, so we'll just say that, yes, you were my first friend.  
  
And you were my best friend, too.  
  
Sure, there's Hermione. And don't get me wrong; Hermione is wonderful- you know that better than anyone. But she's not you, Ron. Remember when we got into that stupid fight during fourth year and stopped talking to each other? Well, Hermione was my makeshift best friend then, and it was alright, but I missed you terribly. Mainly because Hermione couldn't make me laugh the way you could. Well, things haven't changed. She can't make me laugh, and I can't make her laugh. Actually there isn't much of anything that can make either of us laugh these days.   
  
And then there's other reasons why I just can't simply write off a replacement for you.   
  
Ron, you were the only person in the world that I would trust my life to. And I guess the irony of the whole situation is the fact that I did trust my life to you, and you saved it just like I always knew you would. But I just didn't mean for you to die instead... You and I were supposed to have so much more time together. We were supposed to be at each other's weddings. We were supposed to coach our kids' Quidditch teams together. We were supposed to go through our mid-life crisis together. We were supposed to retire together.   
  
And now what?  
  
Who am I suppose to go through all of that with now? Not Hermione.  
  
Ron, it's not bloody fair that this happened! You don't know how much anger I have inside of me all the time now! You don't know how hard it is to capture a Death Eater and not kill him on the spot because I know that he supported the man who murdered you.   
  
I'm just so mad at everyone and everything!  
  
I saw Dean and Seamus at a Quidditch match I went to back in April, and I couldn't quite believe that I could ever feel so jealous. I wanted to just beat both of them to death for having what I didn't have any longer- their best friend. It's not fair; it's just not fair!   
  
And I don't even have anyone that I can go to and confide in. I can't tell Hermione all of these jealous and angry feelings because I always feel like I'm whining, and it makes me feel guilty. Hermione should be the one receiving the support, not giving it. And yet, she still tries to help me out. She's been telling me for two years now that your death was not my fault.  
  
Funny that.  
  
I come up with more reasons every day as to why your death was my fault. Besides the obvious fact that it was me you were defending, there are hundreds of other reasons I can think of to place the blame on myself.   
  
The main one being that Voldemort wouldn't have had anymore interest in you than he had in Susan Bones if you hadn't been my best friend. But since you decided that you wanted to befriend me, you doomed yourself. Just like everyone else who associated with me.  
  
Jesus Christ- I was like the fucking King Midas of the wizarding world. Except instead of turning into gold, everything I touched turned to shit.  
  
It's like I gave off some sort of disease or something! You know, get within breathing distance of "Famous Harry Potter" and turn yourself into the Dark Lord's newest target...   
  
And that's all it was, Ron. You just got too close. Too fucking close.  
  
Yes, you were my best friend, and Voldemort knew that. Honestly, if he had been faced with the chance, he probably would have killed you off years before he did just to get a "Potter ally" off the planet. But he never did, now did he? He never managed to get to you, and he never managed to get to Hermione.  
  
But then that day when we were standing there side by side in front of him, you were no more important to him than a bloody fly on the wall. He had no interest in you that day. No, all he wanted was to kill me- to finally finish what he had started seventeen years before.   
  
But you just had to get in the way, didn't you?  
  
Why, Ron? Why did you have to step in front of me like that? If you would have just stayed put and let him do what he had set out to do and kill me, you could have gone home to Hermione that night. You could be living the life you planned with her right this very moment. But you just couldn't let it happen, could you? You just had to protect me, and you wound up getting yourself killed...  
  
Why were you so stupid?  
  
God, Ron, don't you know that the very last thing in the world I ever wanted was for you to get hurt? You and Hermione were the two most important things in the world to me, and I would never in a million years have ever wished either of you any sort of pain or hurt. But because of me, you got death, and Hermione got a lifetime's supply of agony.  
  
And what did I get?  
  
Guilt... pain... jealousy... anger... The worst kind of emptiness imaginable.  
  
I saw your mum the other day. I've only seen her three times since your funeral. I didn't mean to run into her that day, but we both happened to be at the Ministry at the same time.   
  
She hugged me, of course, and asked me how I'd been. I smiled as warmly as I could and told her I'd been okay. She said she'd been keeping up with me through the Daily Prophet, and I jokingly told her that that was fine as long as she didn't believe anything Rita Skeeter wrote about me. We both laughed for a minute.   
  
And then she just cried. Just like that- out of nowhere- tears just started falling from her eyes.  
  
And what did I do? I bloody cried, too. And Ron, you know that I do not make a habit out of crying in front of people. But I just couldn't help it.  
  
And then everything started coming out. I started in with all of my apologies and pleas for forgiveness, and she just cried harder. We'd never discussed your death before. We went into an empty office, and she told me that I was never to apologize again. When I tried to tell her that it was my fault, she shushed me with an assertive answer that apologies and blame had no place in connection with the most astounding and noble act of bravery that the wizarding world had seen in centuries. She told me that she wasn't going to accept any apologies from me because it had been you, Ron, that had made the decision to sacrifice yourself. And then she'd said that that decision was far nobler than anything she could have ever imagined from her children. And she'd said with a great smile that she was proud of you.  
  
And then she'd said she was proud of me as well.  
  
And after that, I started crying all over again.  
  
I don't let myself to cry often, but there's just something about your mum that allows me the assurance I need to shed tears. And I guess it's because your mother is the only mother I've ever known. I still remember how odd it felt the very first time I ever had the urge to cry in your mother's arms. It was after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, and your mum was staying with me in the hospital wing after I came back from Voldemort. I was blaming myself for Cedric's death then, and she'd assured me that it wasn't my fault. I didn't really believe her, but when she'd hugged me, it was as though I were experiencing a first hug from a parent. And I'd wanted to cry then, too.  
  
While I was with your mum in that empty office, she hugged me again. She told me not to blame myself because none of it was my fault. I didn't believe her, of course, because I knew then and still know that it was my fault, but I didn't say anything. I just nodded silently and marveled at the way it must feel to be hugged by a mother. And even though she didn't say it out loud, I knew that your mum was thinking that hugging me was as close as she was going to get to hugging her youngest son.  
  
So, it was nice for both of us.  
  
But I still feel awful. It isn't fair that your mother has to settle for a substitute youngest son. You know, she's always fussed over me for as long as I've known her, but it was nothing compared to the way she looked at her own children- with eyes so full of love and adoration it almost seemed impossible. You don't know how jealous I used to be of you and your siblings, Ron. Do you know that the very first day I ever met you, I saw your mum scrubbing dirt off of your nose? You seemed so annoyed by it, but I remember thinking how much I would have given to have my own mum scold me about a dirty face. You don't know how lucky you were to be tucked into bed as a child each night by a mother who loved you. You don't know how lucky you were to have your mum read you bedtime stories and sing you to sleep when you were a toddler. You don't know how lucky you were to have a mother who would hug you and comfort you when you got hurt or were scared.  
  
Because I never had any of that.  
  
My mum did the same thing that you did and sacrificed her own life for me. Yes, I bloody killed my mum seventeen years before I killed my best friend.  
  
Do you know that Voldemort didn't even want to kill my mother? Just like he had no concern for you on that day seventeen years later. On both of those days, he wanted one thing and one thing only- he wanted me dead. But he didn't have any luck, did he? He got defeated by the love of a mother on one day and by the loyalty of a best friend on the other.  
  
Ron, I now owe you more than you can imagine. I owe everything in the world to you, and I'll never get to repay you. I'll never ever get to repay my debt.  
  
Because you're dead.  
  
You're buried somewhere under my feet, and I'm talking to a headstone as though it's going to talk back. I'm such an idiot. But I don't know what else to do.  
  
Ronald Phillip Weasley  
March 1, 1980- August 9, 1998  
Beloved Son, Brother, Friend, and Hero  
  
The words on the headstone seem to be yelling at me what I already know. I already know that you're dead, and you're not going to answer me. I already know that you're a beloved son, brother, friend, and hero.  
  
The main question is whether or not you know all of that.  
  
Do you know that your parents loved you unceasingly and eternally? Do you know that Ginny and your brothers teased you because they loved you so much? Do you know that Bill's baby daughter Elysabeth kisses your picture every night before she goes to bed? Do you know that Ginny's getting married to Colin Creevey in two months, and she's leaving a chair for you at the wedding? Do you know how much all of your friends admire you and miss you? Parvati and Dean toasted you at their wedding, and Neville wrote a story about you for the Daily Prophet- did you know he writes for them now? So many people have come by and given me well-wishes, but it seems that all of these well-wishers end up crying as they start offering up old stories and memories. They all miss you terribly, Ron. And Hermione and me? We miss you the most, I suppose. Because you were really all that we had. Your family still has each other to lean on, but Hermione and I only had each other you. The three of us were supposed to be together for always, and now that trio only consists of two. Oh, and the last title on the stone. Yes, Ron Weasley, you are a hero- the greatest hero of the century, in fact. I never knew that so many history books could be updated so quickly, but your name's in more than mine is. It's great, too, because finally the rest of the world is seeing what I saw all along. I always knew you were the bravest, but I guess that a friend with a scar always blocked everyone else from knowing that, eh? Sorry 'bout that. But if you could see the way everyone reveres your name now, you'd probably shit a brick. It's crazy the way all these people worship you now. I was actually in a store not too long ago, and this witch came up to me, grabbed my hand, and said how pleased she was to meet Ron Weasley's best friend. I laughed because I could just imagine the look on your face at hearing that.  
  
Ron, I miss you. I miss you more than you could even imagine. And it seems like while the rest of the world is getting back to normal, I'm just drowning in guilt and misery. I could never have fathomed that losing a best friend could do this to someone, but now that it's happened to me, I don't know how to handle it. I wish that you were here. I wish every day that things had been different.  
  
I wish you could at least be here to hear all these things.  
  
I should have said them to you years ago; I should have said them to you the very first time you ever risked your life for me back in first year during that damn chess match. I never even thanked you; do you realize that? Do you realize that out of all the times you nearly died trying to help me, I never once even offered a thank you? Never once in seven damn years.  
  
Thank you, Ron.  
  
Thank you for doing all the things that you did and for being the best friend that anyone could ever hope for. Thank you for sticking by me through everything and never questioning anything I ever did. Thank you for taking the time to get to know the real me- not the tragic little hero that everyone else did. Thank you for liking the real me and not the "famous Harry Potter" that everyone else tried to befriend.   
  
Thank you for everything.  
  
Ron, I just hope that you know how much you meant and still mean to me. There's not a day that went by when we were in school that I didn't silently give thanks that I had you around to keep me sane. And there's not a day that goes by now that I don't give silent thanks that I was blessed with a blessed with a best friend who cared so much about me that he would give his own life.  
  
Because although I know I never told you this when you were alive, I love you, Ron, for being there as a best friend for all those years. You were the single most important thing in my life for seven years, and there's no way that two years are going to make me forget that. I have to deal with the guilt over your death every single day, and I know that I will probably always battle with that guilt. But at least I know that for seven far too short years, I had a best friend that was the greatest person in the world.  
  
And you were, Ron. You still are. You're the greatest person I've ever known or will know, and you're the greatest hero that our world has ever known.  
  
I miss you terribly. But I'll make it. And Hermione will make it. And your family will make it. We'll all make it because we learned a great lesson from you.   
  
We learned to never give into fear.  
  
You didn't give into it, and you accomplished more than the rest of us put together. And so now whenever we're afraid or miserable, we know to fight it. We won't give into it because you taught us that there is never an excuse for giving up.  
  
So, thanks. Thanks for teaching us that. Thanks for giving us a reason to move on.  
  
And thanks, Ron, for being my best friend.  
  
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The ending didn't really turn out as I would have hoped. I do have at least two more ideas for continuances of this. One is a songfic (never done that before, but I think it would work well), and the other is sort of different. Remember when I referred to Harry going to Hermione's room and her talking about Azkaban? Well, I have a huge scene in my head as to how that all played out, but I didn't know how to tell it from Harry's POV. So, if you guys are interested in it, I'll write it up and add it here. Please review because that's the only way I'll know! :) Thanks! 


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